


Pave The Way For Endless Nights

by SublimeDiscordance



Series: Four Hearts Are Better Than One [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Implied Foursome - M/M/M/M, Light D/s undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sibling Incest, Snowballing, Threesome - M/M/M, implied father/son incest, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/SublimeDiscordance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the day, and they're on freaking vacation, so Yancy decides he wants to relax in their in-suite jacuzzi bathtub.</p><p>His boyfriends have other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pave The Way For Endless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> There are several people who lead to this happening. You know who you are. This is all your fault and I love you. 
> 
> Inspired by [this post](http://ohhaiguise.tumblr.com/post/155819069899) on tumblr, among others. ~~This was supposed to be 3k words what happened??~~
> 
> Unbeta'd, so please forgive any weirdness you find (be sure to let me know so I can fix it)
> 
> Title comes from "On The Beach" by OceanLab: "Every day will pave the way for endless nights of dancing / And every night will fire our minds and liberate our souls..."

 

“Oh my god, this feels amazing,” Yancy groans to the empty air, tipping his head back against the padded edging of their in-suite jacuzzi. His eyes fall shut as he readjusts his shoulders, putting the right one directly in the path of a particularly strong stream of bubbles, allowing the tension that always seemed to build under the circuitry scars whenever he went out in public to bleed away. He shifted slightly, letting out a soundless sigh and letting the hum of the gurgling water fill his ears. “Remind me to let you always pick the vacation spots, Rals,” he calls out towards the bedroom, tilting his head slightly without opening his eyes, moaning aloud as the jets hit his neck at the new angle. “How did you even find this place, anyway?”

“He’s not here, mate,” answers a different voice, and Yancy’s eyelids fly open to see Chuck leaning in the doorway, one hand on his hips, wearing nothing but a pair of dull green, sweat-drenched boxer briefs and a smirk. Yancy’s eyes can’t help but track the scar that runs down the younger pilot’s— _well, ex-pilot_ , his mind muses, _just like the rest of us_ —left side from armpit to belly button, a souvenir from a piece of shrapnel during the bumpy ride to the surface in his escape pod. “But if you really gotta know, he asked me for help, so that’s how. Now, budge over, old man.”

“Well hello to you too, Roo,” Yancy fires back when the redhead hip-checks the door’s frame and makes to move towards the tub. He feels his own smirk overtaking his face. “Where’s Rals then? And Kanga, for that matter?”

Chuck rolls his eyes as he reaches the edge of the jacuzzi, growling slightly.

“They went to work out in the gym, crazy bastards. And don’t call me that shit; Dad’d kill you if he heard you callin’ us that. Now shut up and _budge over_. ’M gettin’ in.”

Yancy just laughs at Chuck’s aggravated tone, not moving. “There’s a perfectly good shower right over there, Roo,” he teases, inclining his head slightly towards the fucking _massive_ structure of glass and tile nestled into the opposite corner of the bathroom. “Don’t tell me that Chuck Hansen, the great savior of the world, is too good for a _shower_?”

Green-blue eyes flash as Chuck glowers at him, unimpressed, the skin around them tightening.

“Fine, be an arse. I’m gettin’ in anyway.”

Yancy’s about to fire back with something witty—something about Chuck telling him on more than one occasion that his ass is one of his finer features, and, oh, that would’ve been delicious just to see the redhead squirm—but then Chuck hooks a hand in the briefs and drags them down, and Yancy finds that his mouth suddenly can’t form words. Because, even after all these years, the sight of Chuck up close and personal takes his breath away. Yancy’s not really sure what exactly it is, either. It could be his core muscles as they ripple when he bends down to push the underwear off of his legs and then straightens back up, the motion deceptively graceful. Or maybe it’s the smaller, almost-invisible scars that crisscross his body—and, no, Yancy does _not_ have them mapped out by touch alone; no, that would be sentimental and disgustingly romantic and Chuck _hates_ that shit—the marks a testament to years of fighting Kaiju. Or perhaps it’s the way the whole tableau is accentuated by the dusting of red-brown hair that covers Chuck’s front, thickening into a treasure trail that travels from the redhead’s navel down to the V of his hips where it widens into a wiry bush of pubes that Yancy has become quite familiar with, given how many times he’s deepthroated the other pilot’s even more familiar cock.

Whatever the reason, Yancy finds himself unable to speak. His mouth hangs open slightly, and it’s only when Chuck slips into the water and settles on the opposite side of the tub that Yancy finally snaps out of it. The tub isn’t small by any means—in fact, Yancy’s fairly certain the four of them could fit in here if it absolutely came down to it—but it’s not large enough that their legs aren’t still tangling together in the center. However, when he pokes Chuck playfully in the thigh with a toe, all he gets is a glower in response before the redhead’s eyes slip closed.

Yancy allows the younger pilot several minutes to stew, choosing instead to relax into the jets as they swirl against his skin. It’s not that he’s deterred by Chuck’s whole hard-to-get routine—he’s encountered it enough times that he’s pretty much immune to the redhead’s ire—but the massaging streams feel damn good against his muscles that ache from being on his feet and on the move almost all day. Eventually, though, Yancy feels Chuck’s absence more acutely than his presence.

“Hey,” Yancy calls to the other man over the low sound of the bubbles, “there’s plenty of room on this side, if you wanna join me.”

“Fuck off Becket,” Chuck responds softly without even opening his eyes, the words turning into a moan of pleasure as the jets continue to wash over him; Yancy may or may not get half-hard at the sound. “Was a fuckin’ long day. Dunno how Dad ‘n Ray still have it in ‘m to go and work out after all that shit.”

Yancy blinks once, twice, then cocks his head to the side, brows crinkling. “What’re you talkin’ about, Roo? I thought it was a good day.”

And it had been. The four of them had wandered around the boardwalk almost the entire day, popping into shops that caught their interest, and stopping at random food stands whenever they felt hungry. At one point they’d stopped back at their hotel before wandering down to the beach and enjoying the Atlantic Ocean’s freezing embrace, dunking each other and horsing around like the teenagers they never got to be while Herc just laughed at the three of them; at least, he’d laughed at them until they’d agreed to team up on him, and then the older man had been swearing sulfurously at them as he came back to the surface after getting dunked for the fourth time, causing several nearby parents to turn highly amusing shades of red and cover their children’s ears. Then, after several threats that’d made Yancy’s trunks feel entirely too tight, they’d stretched out on towels and soaked up some sun—Chuck had demanded that they rent an umbrella,  and Yancy had softly mocked him for his ginger genes until Herc’d growled at him to stop—to dry off and then gone shopping some more. So, all in all, like Yancy had said, a good day.

“A good—” Chuck sputtered, eyes flying open. “You have no clue, do you?”

Yancy bends his neck further.

“Uh, gonna go with nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Enlighten me, if you’d be so kind, kemosabe.”

Chuck makes a low noise of frustration, sitting up slightly, shoulders reappearing above the water.

“You really have _no idea_ , do you? How much work it is to keep the fucking _vultures_ off of you ‘n your brother? It’s bad enough that you two wore the fucking matching trunks—”

“That was a coincidence—” Yancy protests weakly, but Chuck talks over him.

 “—that Dad got for you two to wear _at home_ —”

“But they’re comf—!”

“—so they’re not exactly what one would call ‘modest’—“

“Well, okay, I’ll give you th—”

“—and _then_ ,” Chuck continues, stalking forward slightly, eyes practically glowing with their intensity, “you both decided to go _shirtless_ on the boardwalk. _All. Fucking. Afternoon._ ”

“I, ah,” Yancy flounders for a moment, trying to sink further into the jacuzzi’s seat as Chuck moves inexorably closer, infinitely scarier in his rage than any Kaiju Yancy’d ever faced down. “The salt from swimming made our shirts feel funny?”

“ _So_ ,” Chuck is practically in his face now, speaking as if Yancy had simply remained silent, “do you have _any_ idea how fucking hard Dad ‘n I had to work to make sure none of those goddamn fuckers that kept gawking at you two and your _goddamn_ matching scars fucking _jumped_ one of you?”

“I thought you were both just being really touchy-feely,” Yancy responds, hating how meek his voice has become, but feeling himself getting ridiculously turned on by this possessive streak of Chuck’s, regardless. “Y’know, with the touches and kisses and then the glares you two kept sending everyo—oh.”

Yancy can almost physically _feel_ the memories as they slot into place, everything—the extra kisses, the way Chuck and Herc seemed to be constantly attached to one or both of the Beckets, the way they’d both seemed to be slightly tenser than usual—that the blond had written off as the Hansens being forced by the brothers to be in a social situation, let alone in public.

“ _Oh_.”

“Yes, _‘oh_ ’,” Chuck mocks him, growling, wrapping a hand around Yancy’s neck and hauling him forward. “Your asses’re _ours_.”

The press of Chuck’s lips against his is familiar and welcome, and Yancy’s entire body both sings and goes slack at the contact, a mewl being pulled from between his lips. As soon as the sound sneaks out, Chuck’s tongue is slipping into Yancy’s mouth, plundering, _taking_ , drawing a moan from deep in Yancy’s chest that shifts into a much more desperate pitch when Chuck’s hand wanders over his chest, fingers tracing the circuitry scars until they find his nipple and _twist_.

“Oh god,” Yancy whispers hoarsely into their kiss, the Australian swallowing the words. The redhead moves down from licking into the blond’s mouth to lave at the exposed skin of his neck, finding the sensitive spot just beneath his ear and latching on, the hand on Yancy’s nipple switching sides to tweak the other hardened nub. The taste of _Chuck_ still exploding on his tongue, the almost painful scrape of teeth and tongue over his skin, the jets still caressing his over-sensitized flesh; it’s almost too much. When Chuck’s free hand plunges downward and wraps around Yancy’s painfully hard cock, it’s nearly his undoing. Yancy grabs onto Chuck’s chest desperately, trying to hold on, the soft—now wet—hair under his fingertips making it impossible to get a decent grip.

“Fuck, Chuck, _please_ —” he grunts, not above begging because he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking come _right fucking now_.

“Not yet,” the redhead says into his skin, whispering, the cool air dancing over his wet neck and making Yancy shiver despite the heat of the water surrounding them. Chuck grabs the base of Yancy’s shaft in a grip that’s just this side of painful, and the blond whines in complaint as his pleasure comes to a near-mind shattering crescendo that cracks and dissolves into a low hum. He tries to thrust against Chuck’s hip where it’s pressed against him, but the asshole just twists slightly so that Yancy’s efforts meet nothing but water. On the flip side, the change in position allows a stream of bubbles to flow over the head of his cock, and Yancy gasps at the sudden sensation; if the knowing smirk on Chuck’s face is any indication, the asshole planned that.

“First,” the younger pilot continues, voice low, “I’m gonna blow you, Yance. Gonna suck your load right out‘a your balls, then use your own load to open you up. Gonna lick you open, mate, nice and slow, not even gonna finger you ‘til you’re begging me for it.”

“Oh god,” Yancy whispers back hoarsely when the redhead accentuates his words by jacking Yancy slowly, twisting his palm over the head and sending sparks of pleasure racing up and down the blond’s spine. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, kid.”

Chuck just laughs throatily, pulling back so he’s looking Yancy straight in the eye.

“Mate, you know me: what do you think?”

If Yancy thought he’d been turned on before, the sheer weight of Chuck’s gaze, the smouldering fire behind those blue-green orbs, and the way his voice is absolutely _dripping_ with promise makes the blond’s body ache with a whole new level of _want_. He tries to form a response, something witty, or at the very least _articulate_ , but all he can get out is a choked sort of half-groan. The sound draws another laugh out of Chuck, the heat behind his eyes dancing as he looms over Yancy’s body.

“That’s what I thought, old man,” Chuck says. “Now c’mere.”

Without warning, Chuck’s hands shift to Yancy’s hips, and the next thing the blond knows, the upper half of his body is propped against the cushioning at the edge of the jacuzzi while Chuck supports the rest of him just above the water’s surface, his legs wrapping themselves around the Australian’s chest almost instinctively. He has exactly half a second to feel a thrill of molten desire snake through his already lust-hazed mind at the sheer strength Chuck is casually showing off, but then his brain short-circuits when Chuck’s mouth descends on his cock.

For all the words that Yancy might’ve used to describe Chuck over the years—arrogant, headstrong, dickbag, maybe-not-that-bad-after-all—the most applicable one in this moment is _enthusiastic_. The redhead’s lips wrap around the length of Yancy’s cock, stopping for perhaps a second when the blunt head pokes at the back of his throat. Never one to be deterred by such trivial things as a gag reflex, Chuck continues, inch by inexorable inch, until the entirety of Yancy’s dick is throbbing within the slick heat of his mouth and throat, muscles swallowing convulsively on the shaft and head. Yancy feels the other man’s tongue running over the underside of his shaft, tracing the veins that wind around his length.

And then Chuck starts moving.

Bobbing up and down slowly, he teases the head of Yancy’s cock with his throat and tongue, lapping at the slit, paying special attention to the underside of the flared rim. The blond is sure his body is going to explode; there’s no way it’s humanly possible for a single person to experience this amount of pleasure and stay sane. He’s aware that words are falling from his lips (“—oh shit, oh god, yes, fuck, _yes_ , _please_ —”) but he can’t seem to make them form a coherent sentence, just a constant stream of wrecked babble. He can feel pressure building in his balls, just waiting for that extra _something_ to push him over the edge, as Chuck works him mercilessly, all lips and tongue and just the scantest brush of teeth to add that delicious dash of pain that the redhead knows he likes. His hips move of their own accord, trying desperately to get _more_ , to just be allowed to fuck the younger pilot’s mouth until he explodes down Chuck’s hungry throat, but the Australian keeps a tight grip on Yancy’s body, keeping everything moving at the pace _he_ wants. Yancy whines in protest while at the same time shuddering in pleasure because _it’s not fucking fair that this kid can do this to him_ , and in retaliation he tangles a hand in Chuck’s hair and grips _hard_ , fingers tugging harshly at the short, red-brown locks.

Chuck makes a pleased humming sound deep in his chest just as he buries his nose in Yancy’s wet pubes again, the vibrations travelling up the blond’s shaft and spine as the Australian’s fingers dig into the meat of his  hips and—

And it’s the push Yancy needs.

He comes so hard his entire body convulses with the force of it, and the world fades into ringing, white emptiness.

Someone, Yancy realizes, is screaming, a constant outpouring of filth.

That someone, he realizes a moment later, is him. 

When he finally comes down, feeling like his balls have turned inside-out, it’s to realize that Chuck is still supporting him, mouth still sealed around  his softening cock, sucking hungrily. The sensation sends aftershocks of pleasure coursing through Yancy’s body, and he twitches slightly as they race through him like a lightning bolt. Then, Chuck pulls off with an audible pop, eyes tracking up to meet the blond’s, smirking, before he leans up and kisses him. Yancy sighs into the press of lips against his own, shuddering slightly as the redhead slowly lowers him back into the steaming water—both from the heat and the sensation of being oh-so gently manhandled by the younger pilot—and untangling his fingers from Chuck’s hair, wrapping his arms around the Australian’s neck and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Which is, of course, when something becomes quite obvious.

Chuck hadn’t swallowed. At least, not everything.

Some of Yancy’s own release rolls onto his tongue, pouring from Chuck’s mouth into his own, and, though he’s never been overly fond of the taste, the sheer fact that this is _Chuck_ who’d done this to him, who is feeding him his own spunk, sends a shiver of delight racing up and down Yancy’s spine. He parts his lips further, accepting the bitter, sweet offering that also has a distinct flavor of _Chuck_ to it from sitting in the redhead’s mouth, and swirls it around on his own tongue, the action pushing some of it back into Chuck’s mouth. Clearly, Chuck hadn’t been exactly expecting that, judging by the way his breath hitches, Yancy guesses in surprise, but, if the enthusiastic sound he makes a moment later is any indication, he doesn’t mind at all. They continue to make out, tongues sliding together, Yancy’s seed sliding between the writhing appendages, their flavors mixing and melding until it’s neither Yancy nor Chuck, but _YancyandChuck_ that is sliding across their taste buds.

Yancy is actually so into it that he almost doesn’t notice when Chuck pulls back, just chases the redhead’s mouth with his lips, trying to follow the line of spit and cum that stretches messily between them. Chuck, however, pushes him harshly back against the side of the tub, diving back in and _sucking_ at his mouth, taking back most of the blond’s load, before pulling back a second time. Without a word—and, really, Yancy thinks to himself, of course he’s not speaking; talking around a mouthful of someone’s spunk is rather difficult—Chuck pulls at Yancy’s hips again, this time hoisting him even higher than before, until the blond is practically bent into a ninety degree angle.

“Wha—” Yancy manages to get out as Chuck looms over him, the same thrill from before at how fucking _easily_ Chuck is throwing him around making him shiver. However, he never manages to finish the thought, as Chuck chooses that moment to push his tongue as deeply as it will go into Yancy’s ass. Admittedly, it isn’t very far at first, as the blond’s pucker’s immediate response is to clamp down on the intrusion. But then the pleasure hits a fraction of a second later. Yancy feels like his whole body is lit up as Chuck twists that marvelous muscle within him, teasing apart his rim with short jabs and whorls that send shocks of fire up Yancy’s spine. His hands scrabble uselessly at the cushioning and tile that line the jacuzzi, trying to hold onto something, _anything_ , because he _needs_ to ground himself _right fucking now_ or he’s almost certain he’s going to fly away. Chuck’s tongue pushes inside even further than before, and Yancy swears he can see stars as the redhead stiffens the appendage and moves it from side to side, lighting up his nerve endings a something warm drips over his hole and—

Holy shit.

Yancy’s entire body spasms in shock as Chuck lets some of the blond’s cum ooze onto his hole, and then uses his tongue to push it inside.

Yancy’s rock hard again in an instant, cock pointing down at his face, the warm, fluid sensation inside of him making him feel fuller than he’d thought was possible without an actual dick up his ass. As Chuck slowly drips more and more of Yancy’s own seed into his hole, holding him open with his hands, Yancy continues writhing in helpless pleasure. There are no words to describe exactly how being tongue-fucked with your own cum, having it forced into your own ass, feels. Chuck looks down at him, gaze burrowing straight past the logic centers of Yancy’s brain and boring into some part of him that has him squirming in delight. The redhead pulls back ever so slightly, so that Yancy can see his mouth again from this angle, and parts his lips so that the remainder of the milky white fluid  drip slowly down. Yancy feels it as it splashes on his hole, cold from the short fall, and shivers, something approaching a scream being torn from his throat when Chuck chases the line of white back down and buries his tongue inside of Yancy once more. The Australian continues tongue-fucking his hole then, sparks travelling over every inch of Yancy’s skin as his sensitive rim is massaged open gently, insistently, _slowly_ , until he starts begging again.

“Fuck, Chuck, please, if I don’t get you inside me I’m gonna fuckin’ _explode_ , _please_ —”

Which is, of course, when the door opens, and a very sweaty Raleigh enters the bathroom.

Chuck makes a sound of confusion and distress, slipping on the bottom of the tub and falling back a half step, grip on Yancy faltering enough that blond’s bottom half falls into the water with a splash. Which, of course, serves to get water everywhere, including in Chuck’s face.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Ray,” Chuck splutters, wiping at his eyes and mouth hurriedly. “Fuckin’ _knock_ , arsehole!”

Raleigh just laughs, eyes sparkling.

“Hello to you, too, Chucky,” he says jovially, ignoring the indignant squawk Chuck makes at the nickname with practiced ease. “And you too, Yance. Please, by all means,” he gestures between the two of them, “don’t stop on my account. I was just gonna catch a shower.”

Yancy just stares at his younger brother, slack-jawed, for a moment before finally speaking up.

“You’re a fucking ass, Rals.”

Raleigh laughs. Again. And then winks at them. Fucking _winks_.

“Not yet, I’m not,” he murmurs softly, smirking, the words almost inaudible over the sound of the jets. He fingers at the edge of his shirt where it’s practically plastered to his skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Slowly, almost teasingly, Yancy’s brother crosses his arms, takes firm hold of the sweat-soaked gray material of his shirt and, smirk turning positively predatory, lifts it over his head.

Yancy has to suppress a shiver at the sight of his younger brother’s body coming into view, all planes of flat, tan muscle, lightly dusted with dark blond hair that concentrates around his navel and then leads in a tempting trail down to the band of his red gym shorts. The only delineation from what many would consider absolute perfection are the circuitry scars that mark the younger blond’s arms and chest, stretching across his pecs and shoulder blades as if Raleigh were some kind of machine made flesh. Yancy, personally, thinks that the scars make him more perfect. After all, the ones on his brother’s left are a perfect match to those on his own right. And they show that, if nothing else, the Becket brothers do not give up. Where most people would look at Raleigh’s scars and see disfigurement, Yancy looks at them and sees only courage and a soul far stronger than he thinks he could ever be.

Unconsciously, Yancy shifts closer to Chuck, hears the redhead give a low whimper as Raleigh’s muscles flex and bunch as he pulls the shirt off completely, and he doesn’t have to look beside him to know that Chuck is just as enraptured by the impromptu striptease Raleigh is giving them as he is. When Raleigh’s face comes back into view, his grin is positively shit-eating, and he raises an eyebrow at the two of them, pursing his lips together, and runs one hand over his stomach, his abdominals and obliques fluttering, as the other dips down to the waistband of his shorts. The younger Becket’s fingertips trace just under the drawstring-defined border as he throws his head back and moans, the sound full and throaty and fit for a porn star.

Yancy’s cock, which had begun flagging when Chuck had unceremoniously dropped him back in the tub, becomes hard again so fast that his head spins slightly.

Raleigh continues his show, canting his hips one way and then the other as he saunters over to the door of the shower, pushing the shorts down until the tops of the globes of his ass are visible, as well as an inch and a half of so of the cleft between them, by the time he makes it to the pane of sliding glass. The younger blond spins slowly on the spot, hips undulating in a way that should be ridiculous but that Yancy can’t stop staring at because this is _Raleigh_ , this is his _baby brother_ , and, _fuck_ , even though they’d gotten over that particular hurdle when the kid was seventeen and they’d started doing drift simulations together, it should still not be as hot as it is—nor should the fact that, again, this is _Raleigh_ , his _baby brother_ , make it that much hotter.

Yeah, Yancy knows he’s completely fucked.

Funnily enough, he’s past caring.

The hand Raleigh has on his stomach shifts upward, running over his chest, tweaking his own nipples as he makes breathy little gasps of pleasure, the other digits slipping below the low-slung shorts, past the small patch of wiry blond hair that’s peeking over the edge of the waistband—at which point Yancy realizes, rather belatedly, that his brother isn’t wearing underwear—to run over the length of the bulge that’s showing above the bright, meshed material. He tilts his head back, slowly this time, baring the expanse of his throat and swallowing slowly, watching Yancy and Chuck through half-lidded eyes. After a few moments during which Yancy tries to remember to breathe, Raleigh’s hands both move back to his waistband, hooking his thumbs in the material, and pushing it down those last few inches, the drawstring catching and pulling on the outline of his erect cock  so that it’s forced downward, the base coming into view, then the balls, and finally, inch by inch, the shaft and flared, dark red head. Once he’s fully revealed in the front, Raleigh turns around again to shimmy his way out of the shorts, bending over to push them down to his feet, his ass winking at Yancy and Chuck.

“Oh fuck,” Chuck groans from beside Yancy, and the blond can’t help but agree. His brother may be many things, but ignorant of his own beauty is not one of them. Yancy finds his hand wandering below the water, gently stroking his own arousal, trying to ease some of the pressure he can feel building there, seeking some kind of friction aside from the streams of bubbles that swirl around him. Chuck seems to take a cue from him, because, the next thing Yancy knows, the redhead moves even closer, slightly behind him, and starts slowly rutting against the older Becket’s hip, clearly not trying to get off, just trying to take the edge off of the tension.

Raleigh straightens, looks at them over his shoulder, and then lifts his smirk fractionally higher before sliding the door back and entering the cavernous shower, turning on the spray and letting it cascade over his body.

If Yancy had thought his brother was attractive before, it was almost nothing compared to how he looks now: hair plastered flat to his forehead, water dripping down his face before sluicing over and between the peaks of obscenely-defined muscles, each individual droplet and stream demanding Yancy’s individual attention as it travelled over the tanned perfection that was Raleigh. The pressure building in his groin swells, and, if the way he’s started rutting against Yancy’s leg with a new kind of fervor, Chuck is feeling the same thing.

“Fuck, Yance,” Chuck hisses in his ear, voice unsteady, “I think your brother’s trying to seduce us or some shit.”

On a normal day, Yancy would’ve probably turned and leveled Chuck with an incredulous stare. On a normal day, he would’ve narrowed his eyes slightly and raised a single, imperious eyebrow, responding with something like “No, really?” or “Y’think? That Hansen intellect at use, Chuckles.” On a normal day, Chuck would’ve fired back with something along the lines of “At least we’re more’n just a pretty face, mate,” or “No, I’m suddenly cynical of your brother’s desire to bone us, of course I’m serious you sod.”

Today, however, is not a normal day. No, today is  a day during which Yancy has already come once, Chuck hasn’t, and they’d both succeeded in working themselves into something approaching a sexual frenzy before they’d been interrupted. And, on top of all that, his brother has suddenly decided to realize that he’s sex on  legs.

Therefore, Yancy, for his part, feels his nerves beginning to fray, and instead says nothing.

He can’t restrain a moan as Raleigh soaps his body up and starts stroking his own cock, the shaft bright red and almost visibly throbbing, even from the other side  of the room. Yancy just watches, hypnotized, as his brother continues to work himself over, hand swirling around the tip and drawing a series of loud groans from the younger blond—groans that Chuck and Yancy both mirror—before he starts thrusting into his own palm, the muscles of his thighs hardening with each movement. Suds now trails down Raleigh’s body instead of water droplets, their progress much slower but no less tantalizing to track.

However, it’s when Raleigh continues his ministrations to his cock but then, in addition, props a leg up on the bench that runs the length of one of the shower’s walls, away from the spray, and works a finger into the hole he’d flashed at his lovers before that Yancy’s control snaps.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, and hauls himself out of the jacuzzi and, without bothering to dry off, wanders over to the shower door, dripping water all over the tile as his feet make wet smacking sounds where they strike the floor, the cum Chuck had tongued up his ass almost unnoticeable against his leg as it slowly leaks out. Yancy hears a splash behind him when he manages to wrench the door to the shower open, and a quick glance over his shoulder tells him that Chuck has followed, his entire torso a slightly pink color that makes the scars on it stand out silver-white. He leaves the door open for the redhead, instead grabbing Raleigh and hauling his brother towards him; the younger Becket fairly collapses, muscles going slack so that Yancy has to catch him, with a delighted sound.

“Took you two long enough,” Raleigh murmurs with a soft chuckle, twisting his head to capture Yancy’s lips in a searing kiss that’s all slick tongue and teeth when the door shuts, signaling that Chuck is here with them, too. Yancy can hear the redhead fairly panting, can practically feel the heat radiating from his body. He pulls back from his kiss with his brother, working his way towards the back of the kid’s neck and that spot where neck and shoulder meet that he knows drives him crazy. He can see Raleigh, out of the corner of his eye, reaching for Chuck and pulling the Australian into a kiss almost identical to the one he’d shared with Yancy earlier; to say that it makes Yancy’s cock throb would be an understatement. He reaches his arms around, hands running over the flat planes of Raleigh’s stomach, massaging the firm muscles there as he thinks.

“So how’re we doing this, then?” Yancy asks in between nips and sucks, working a red mark into his brother’s skin that he knows will develop into an absolutely _beautiful_ hickey later.

“Mm, whatever you guys want,” Raleigh gets out breathlessly, smirking so hard Yancy can _hear_ it in his voice—a voice that should not be so preternaturally seductive, Yancy muses, or drive him to the brink of insanity with lust—before he groans, “ _Use me_.”

Yancy ceases in his ministrations for perhaps a half second, allowing the heat that’d flushed through his entire body at the two simple words to dissipate slightly so that he think _somewhat_ clearly. The loss of sensation earns him a whine from Raleigh, and in that moment he makes his decision. Remembering the sad lack of attention Chuck’s received so far, Yancy raises one hand to Raleigh’s hair and grabs it in a punishing grip that draws a hiss from his brother while, with his other hand, he gathers up Raleigh’s wrists and pins them behind his back. He pulls the kid out of his kiss with their boyfriend, forcing him to his knees. The younger Becket seems to get the idea, as he goes willingly— _smiling_ , even—leaning slightly into Yancy’s dual grip. Chuck seems to get the idea too, because, when Raleigh’s at eye-level with the Australian’s erection, he holds it aloft, oozing tip pointed at Raleigh’s lips.

“Suck him,” Yancy orders, before he pushes Raleigh’s head forward, forcing him down on Chuck’s not-inconsiderable length.

The kid gags, eyes watering, perhaps expecting—although Yancy doubts it—for the push to have been slightly slower. However, when Chuck grabs his hair between Yancy’s fingers and tugs him back off until just the head is left in his mouth, Raleigh stares up at them both, adoration clear in his eyes and open-mouthed, panting smile. Yancy can see his younger brother’s cock jump slightly, a pearl of pre-come gathering at the tip.

“I told you to suck him,” Yancy repeats, forcing his brother to take Chuck to the root once more. This time, Raleigh seems to be more prepared, as he doesn’t _quite_ gag—there’s still a moment when his entire body convulses ever so slightly, likely an involuntary reaction—but he _does_ make a moan of happiness from deep within his chest. The sound makes Chuck practically growl.

“Fuck, Rals, you have no idea how good your mouth feels,” the redhead tells the younger blond, bringing his other hand down and sliding the first one to the side so that he’s gripping Raleigh’s head between his palms, and he starts thrusting into the younger Becket’s willing mouth. Raleigh’s body still jerks every time Chuck’s cock hits the back of his throat, but it’s becoming smaller and smaller and, if the way his cock is practically _pulsing_ between his legs is any indication, Yancy knows he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Every time Chuck pulls back, Yancy can hear his brother suck in an almost desperate breath or let out a long, protracted, almost pornographic groan.

“That’s right, Chuckles,” Yancy says, looking up to meet the redhead’s lust-blown eyes, not missing the way the Australian’s muscles are rolling and flexing beneath the dusting of wet, red-brown hair, the sight making his own cock throb. “Skullfuck my baby brother,” Raleigh and Chuck both moan at the words, “give it to him, Chuck. Harder.”

Chuck picks up his pace, the moans Raleigh’s been making increasing in volume at the change in tempo. Yancy watches, enraptured, as Chuck’s cock slides between his brother’s lips, leaning around and tracking the bulge it makes as it slides down the younger Becket’s throat with his tongue. Raleigh tastes like sweat and shower water, and Yancy can _feel_ his throat vibrating as he continues to make incoherent noises that would no doubt have been babbling if he hadn’t had his mouth otherwise occupied.

“You look so good like this, Rals,” he whispers in the other man’s ear, “on your knees, taking Chuck’s dick like a fucking pornstar. You like it? You like gagging on him, lil’ bro?” When he feels Raleigh’s head twitch in a nod—at least, as much of a nod as he can manage at the moment—Yancy hums into his skin and whispers, “That’s right, that’s my good boy, Rals. So good for us.”

He blinks when Raleigh continues twitching his head slightly, and for a moment a tendril of confusion seeps through his lust-hazed thoughts.

Which is when he notices that Raleigh’s tapping against the inside of his wrist almost desperately with just his middle and pointer fingers. Their signal for ‘stop, too fucking much.’ Yancy feels his eyes go wide, terror icing his veins.

“Shit, Chuck, _Eureka_ ,” he nearly yells, immediately releasing his grip on Raleigh’s hair and wrists. He watches as Chuck does the same, watches horror matching that which Yancy feels cross the redhead’s expression. Raleigh pulls back, retching and gasping for air. They’re both at his side in an instant, both whispering soft apologies and making sure his airway is clear, that he feels like he can breathe again, but Raleigh waves them away.

“I’ll be fine, guys,” he mumbles, voice raw—like someone who’d just been deepthroating a dick, Yancy’s mind offers unhelpfully—but, of course, both of them ignore him and instead place soothing hands on the younger blond’s back as he continues coughing, hunched over on his knees on the shower floor. Once the fit stops, the two of them wrap themselves around Raleigh’s body, cocooning him in their warmth. Raleigh heaves an exasperated sigh, a half-cough working its way from between his lips near the end, as he turns so that he’s resting his back against Chuck’s body. Yancy’s hands absentmindedly start tracing the circuitry scars on his brother’s body, following the lines that have been burned into his memory almost as effectively as they’ve been burned into Raleigh’s skin.

“For god’s sake, guys, I’m serious, I’m fine. You were just holding me too tightly and I couldn’t breathe, okay? I’m _fine_ ,” the younger Becket repeats, as if saying the words over and over will somehow erase that moment—the moment they accidentally pushed too fucking far—from their minds. “I’ll be okay, alright?” Another soft cough, a clearing of the throat, and then Raleigh’s purring lowly. “I still want you both to fuck me.”

Yancy sighs. “First of all, Rals, we don’t have any lube, at least not unless you wanna move this to the bed, and secondly—”

“We’re not doin’ shit until we’re sure you’re good, a’right?” Chuck finishes, cutting him off. Yancy just nods his agreement. Raleigh blushes at the words, but refuses to look way.

“That’s really nice, guys, but I’m serious: I meant what I said earlier, okay? I _want_ you two to use me. Please, just… trust me when I say that I’m okay, please? I liked it—I _really_ liked it—up until, well, yeah,” he trails off, obviously not wanting to remind them of what’d happened, before he perks up again.

“There’s a bottle of lube in the pocket of my shorts, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” the younger Becket says softly, before turning further into his brother and grinding his rock hard erection against Yancy’s leg, the action drawing a groan out of the older blond. “And I want you both. I want you both to use me, want you both to fill me u—”

Raleigh doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because, before he can properly think his actions through, a near-subsonic growl is crawling from Yancy’s chest as he picks his brother up by the waist—the blond making a delighted little gasp that pushes any remaining doubts Yancy may have had out of his mind—and manhandles him onto the bench built into the shower’s floor. Yancy attacks his brother’s mouth, licking into it and mapping out the familiar territory once again, leaning back for a moment to murmur, “Chuck. Lube. Now,” before he resumes his explorations. Raleigh practically purrs underneath him, hands roaming Yancy’s body, as if trying to find something to do, before they finally settle on the older man’s shoulders.

Yancy’s been doing this with Raleigh long enough that he knows  exactly what the gesture means, even if he knows that, when he gets like this the kid’ll never say what he wants aloud. So Yancy moves away from his brother’s mouth, licking down along the hollow of his throat until he reaches the prominent, tanned collarbone. The sound of the shower door closing catches his attention, and he looks up to see Chuck entering once more, shivering slightly from having been in the cold air of the bathroom, a small bottle in his hand, and his cock leading the way. Yancy rearranges himself and his brother so that they’re sideways on the bench, the tiled wall beside them, and he growls into his brother’s neck, “Suck him,” before he latches onto the skin around kid’s jutting clavicle, scraping his teeth over it.

Raleigh, shuddering in delight at the authoritative tone in Yancy’s voice, reaches out to Chuck, who places the bottle down on the bench above Raleigh’s head before he grabs a fistful of the younger blond’s hair and guides him to his cock once more. Yancy can tell that Chuck is reluctant at first, not wanting a repeat of earlier, and he moves off of where he’d been sucking at one of Raleigh’s nipples, flicking at the nub with his tongue and teeth to draw delicious humming groans out of his brother, to say, “Chuck, we have a safeword for a reason. Rals knows what he wants, but you gotta give it to him. You need to trust him to tell you when it’s too much. Do you trust him?”

Chuck pauses in his thrusting, brow furrowing as he looks down at Raleigh, as if he’s unclear about the purpose of the question. Raleigh has taken to bobbing his head sideways on Chuck’s dick, trying to take as much of it as he can as he sighs happily through his nose, looking up at the redhead through his wet bangs that are plastered to his forehead. Yancy knows that look, the puppy-dog, ‘please, won’t you give me everything?’ look, and he also knows that it’s unnecessary: he knows what Chuck’s going to say before the Australian even opens his mouth to speak.

“Yeah, I—of course I do.”

Yancy smiles at him gently.

“So trust him. _Use_ him,” he adds, mimicking Raleigh’s earlier words.

Apparently, all the redhead had needed was a reminder of the trust they all shared, because Chuck almost immediately tightens his hold on Raleigh’s hair, drawing a delighted sound out of the blond. Then, to Raleigh’s apparent delight, he resumes the near-punishing rhythm he’d been using before, shoving his dick down Yancy’s brother’s throat before pulling back just long enough for the younger Becket to draw in a gasping breath before repeating the action. With each thrust, Raleigh lets out a satisfied hum every time Chuck’s dick bottoms out against his lips, the redhead’s low-hanging balls slapping softly against his cheek.

Yancy, for his part, slowly, teasingly moves his way down Raleigh’s torso, stopping at each of his brother’s sensitive spots and lavishing them with attention. The muscles under his tongue jump at the attention, and Yancy manages to keep himself from laughing when he feels an soft, but insistent, pressure on his shoulder. Apparently, Raleigh’s patience is wearing thin.

Rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics, Yancy purposefully chews on the spot on Raleigh’s hip for a few extra seconds before he finally, slowly, moves down towards his brother’s erection. The tip hits him in the chin, and he _does_ chuckle softly at that. However, he bypasses Raleigh’s cock completely, ignoring the way the hand on his shoulder digs its fingertips into his shoulder ever so gently, instead licking along the crease between Raleigh’s sack and thigh, lapping up the male musk there and nipping at the sensitive, oft-ignored skin. His actions earn him a shudder that satisfies him, so he moves further downward, pushing Raleigh’s legs up and over his head as he continues past the younger blond’s perineum and comes face to face with his brother’s entrance.

Without pausing, Yancy dives in and laps at the ring of muscle, switching between twisting his tongue against it and flattening the slippery appendage and running it in broad strokes over the trembling, sensitive flesh.

He considers himself successful when Raleigh makes a _loud_ noise around Chuck’s cock. not a hum or a moan, but a full-throated vocalization that seeps out from between the seal between his lips and the redhead’s shaft. It takes Yancy a few moments, during which he continues his ministrations, to realize that his brother is keeping up a constant stream of expletives and filth; he’ll occasionally catch an errant “Yance” or “fuck”—though it could  just as easily be “Chuck,” he’s not sure. Chuck, for his part, seems to thoroughly enjoying the added sensations to his cock.

“Fuck yeah, Rals,” he whispers, panting, “fuckin’ take it, _fuck_ your mouth feels so good, mate—ah!—I could fuckin’ come just like this, come right down your throat—”

“No,” Yancy interrupts him, sitting up slightly and staring Chuck straight in the eye. “We’re both going to come in his ass.”

Chuck’s hips stutter at the words, and he must push just a little deeper than before, because Raleigh gags in surprise while simultaneously making the most erotic, pleased sound Yancy’s ever heard; he must’ve processed what exactly the older blond had said at the same time as Chuck.

Words affirmed, Yancy leans forward, snags the bottle of lube, and applies some to his fingers, allowing it to warm before he resumes rimming his little brother’s hole. Thrusting his tongue past the ring of muscle, he feels it flutter and then yield to him, and he slips a single finger inside without difficulty, seeking out his brother’s prostate. He knows exactly when he finds it, because Raleigh’s entire body attempts to arch off the bench, and Yancy ahs to hastily take ahold of his brother’s erection and clamp his hand down in a vise-like grip to prevent him from coming just yet, a soft recrimination on his lips. Raleigh lets out a strangled cry, and Yancy can see _tears_ gathering in the corners of the younger blond’s eyes at being denied, so he leans up to give his brother a gentle kiss on his cheek. He can feel Chuck’s cock sliding past the other side of the flesh when his lips make contact, and he gently prods at the skin with his tongue, relishing in the shudder that goes through Chuck’s body at the action.

Once Yancy’s sure Raleigh’s not a hair-trigger away from shooting, he works a second finger inside and starts moving them within his brother’s channel, stretching the rim and rubbing the sensitive knob within while he presses his tongue flat against Chuck’s shaft, tasting the redhead’s musk and his brother’s spit as the force of each thrust drives his tongue into his brother’s mouth alongside their boyfriend’s cock before the outward pull draws him back out. When he thinks Raleigh is can take it, he works a third, and then, finally, a fourth finger into Raleigh’s hole. By the time he’s satisfied, Raleigh is a quivering, groaning mess, pleading Yancy with his eyes to just _fuck him_ already. Yancy smirks down at the younger blond, removing his fingers with an obscene squelching sound.

“Chuck,” Yancy calls to the redhead, interrupting him in the middle of  a sentence (“—like gagging on my cock, don’t you Ray—?”) and smirking at the flush that decorates the Australian’s face. “You fuck him first.”

Chuck freezes deep in Raleigh’s throat, prompting the younger blond to gag again, before the younger pilot makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan and pulls his cock from between Raleigh’s lips. Yancy notices, with some astonishment, that the Australian’s dick is currently sitting somewhere between dark red and purple, and, _fuck_ , he has no idea how the kid hasn’t come yet; after all, Raleigh’s a fucking _master_ at giving head, and his mouth is one of the modern wonders of the world in Yancy’s opinion. Yancy moves aside, allowing Chuck to take his place. The redhead wastes no time in coating his cock with lube, but, before he gets started, he fingers Raleigh gingerly with one finger, apparently teasing his prostate if the way the younger blond _writhes_ is any indication. Then, though, Chuck’s moving his cock into position and pushing in with one long, continuous thrust.

Mouth now free to speak, Raleigh, of course—since he never _shuts up_ during sex—starts talking.

“ _Fuck yes_ , oh fucking _fuck_ , yes, fuckin’ fill me up, breed my ho—” and that, Yancy decides, is enough of that, and he grabs his brother’s jaw and shoves his cock between the younger man’s teeth. Raleigh takes to his new task with gusto, still making soft whining noises as Chuck pounds into him unrelentingly. The Australian leans over Yancy’s brother, sucking a matching mark into the blond’s collarbone opposite of the darkening one Yancy’d left earlier, the changed angle making Raleigh practically _squeal_ in delight. However, just when Yancy’s sure Chuck is about to come, he redhead pulls out and gestures the older blond over.

“That was close, mate,” he says breathlessly with a sly grin. “Your turn.”

Yancy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t object. He looks down at Raleigh, trying to judge how his baby brother feels about him and Chuck flip-flop fucking him, and— _oh_.

Raleigh’s looking up at Yancy, mouth still full of cock, like Christmas has come early.  Yancy pulls himself from his brother’s throat and moves back towards the kid’s legs, finding the bottle of lube and coating his length. Raleigh has just enough time to get out a rough, wrecked, “ _Fuck_ ye—” before Chuck takes advantage of his open mouth. If Raleigh minds the taste of the lube—which, Yancy knows from experience, is more a lack of taste than anything else—he makes no such indication, and instead goes back to sucking Chuck’s dick with enthusiasm. Yancy lines himself up with his brother’s slick entrance, and pushes himself in with a single, quick, thrust.

Molten heat envelops his cock, and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut, all the breath leaving him in a rush. They’ve been doing this for _years_ and every time Yancy does this he’s always amazed by how good—how _perfect_ —his brother feels. Whether it’s topping or bottoming, Yancy seems to always been in a constant state of near-orgasm whenever Raleigh is involved. This is no different. He has to take a moment, sitting still, long enough that Raleigh starts to make small, whining sounds past Chuck’s cock, before he starts moving, angling his hips _just so_ to make his throbbing length rut directly against Raleigh’s prostate. The younger Becket writhes underneath him, the motions becoming almost frantic when Yancy’s flared cockhead grinds past the sensitive bundle, and he has to whisper a harsh reminder in his brother ear that he’s not to come until Yancy says so as he plunges back inside, the other man’s body welcoming him, pulling him in.

Yancy sets a frantic pace, not even bothering to build up to it. He simply pushes his brother’s legs down and back so that his ass is sticking up in the air, and starts thrusting with abandon. Raleigh’s internal muscles grip and massage his shaft, the rim squeezing down on him with each slick motion, and, in almost no time at all, Yancy can feel his release building, his balls drawing up closer to his body in preparation. At the last second, with a cry, he pulls out completely, Raleigh’s hole winking at him as he signals Chuck over to take his turn.

They continue like this at least three more times, both men switching off until they’re about ready to explode and taking the other’s place at Raleigh’s head when they get too close. Which, of course, means that the entire situation isn’t going to work too well, considering what Chuck’d said earlier was entirely true: it’d be so easy to just come off of Raleigh’s mouth alone, so Yancy has to grip his brother’s face tightly and keep him from doing too much as he slowly fucks into Raleigh’s mouth. He makes sure that it’s just enough to keep him hard and ready to go, but not enough that it pushes him over the edge that he’s rapidly approaching anyway.

Beneath them, Raleigh remains completely pliant, pleased little sounds working their way out of him as Chuck and Yancy both effectively have their way with him. He tries to reach for his cock at once point, and Yancy grabs the kid’s wrists in his hand again and pins them above his head with a growl.

“I meant what I said, kiddo,” Yancy rumbles, pitching his voice low just to see the way Raleigh’s pupils—already wide with arousal—expand even further at the tone. “You want us to use you? Fine. But no touching yourself. Good toys don’t get to get off unless they’re told to.”

Raleigh doesn’t try again after that, although he does occasionally test Yancy’s grip—and, later, he sees him doing the same in Chuck’s arms—as if to make sure he’s still actually restrained.

It’s the fourth time Yancy’s sliding into his brother’s abused hole, making sure he grinds against the kid’s prostate the entire way in, that he swears aloud and murmurs, “Shit, Chuck, I’m not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. You?”

“’Bout fuckin’ time,” Chuck grunts by way of answer, and it’s all the encouragement Yancy needs. He leans over Raleigh’s body, returning to the mark he’d previously made and nipping at it further, angling his hips so that he’s aiming right for that nub of nerve endings within his brother and thrusting hard enough that the younger Becket’s body begins to rock back and forth on the bench with the force of it. All too soon, the feeling of his younger brother’s body caressing him, the sounds he can hear coming from deep in Raleigh’s throat; it’s too much. Yancy feels his orgasm coming, feels his entire body tensing in preparation, making his thrusts become erratic and punishing, feels the pressure building and building in the base of his cock until he feels like he’s going to come apart if he doesn’t get it out _right fucking now_ —

And then he’s coming, shooting his release deep within Raleigh’s body, the blond making high, pleased sounds as Yancy fills him. Yancy feels like his entire body’s being liquefied and shot out of his cock, so completely does his entire body turn to jelly as he _keeps coming_ , collapsing against his brother’s chest—likely crushing him slightly—and sucking in gulps of air as his body twitches with aftershocks once he’s stopped. Dimly, he’s aware that Raleigh’s internal muscles are still caressing his spent, oversensitive cock, trying to coax out everything he has to offer and making him squirm slightly at the overstimulation. Once his senses return properly, Yancy pulls out carefully, erection slowly flagging, and gestures to Chuck. Yancy takes up position by Raleigh’s head, lightly threading his still-tingling fingers through the blond locks—not having enough strength to really bear down at the moment—and holds his lube- and come-covered cock towards his brother’s face. “Clean it,” he orders softly, groaning when Raleigh’s mouth seals around him with a delighted hum, tongue lapping at him enthusiastically.

“Fuck, Yance,” Chuck says, and Yancy glances over to see that the redhead is fully seated inside of Raleigh’s body, rim stretched tight around the Australian’s girth. “Fuck, you filled him up so nice. Feels so good in here. Don’t think ‘m gonna last long.”

“Then don’t,” Yancy manages to  get out with a low chuckle, . “Go for it, babe.”

When Chuck really, truly, lets go, it’s a thing of beauty. His hips slam forward in a quick, staccato rhythm, muscles moving with a perfect synchronization that Yancy knows is born from endless hours spent training for the program, honing his body into a weapon. The strength of his thrusts, though, is enough that, instead of making Raleigh’s body rock against the bench, it actually starts _pushing_ him across the plastic surface. Yancy has to move so that Raleigh’s head is cradled in his lap, hands gently bracing his shoulders so that they don’t end up sliding all the way to the wall. This, of course, means that Raleigh is no longer nursing on his older brother’s softening cock, so his mouth is free to babble.

Except he doesn’t.

The other advantage to when Chuck truly, completely lets go, is that there is some part of the redhead—either some instinct he’d cultured long ago, or, more likely, something he’d picked up from Herc during their earlier drifts—that refused to let him not take others into consideration, especially during lovemaking. Therefore, when Chuck _lets go_ , Raleigh ceases babbling. Well, more accurately, he ceases _talking_.

The noises falling from his between his brother’s lips could never be mistaken for words.

Raleigh positively _keens_ as Chuck’s hips slam into his own, the sound breathless and deliciously _wrecked_. His hands claw at the air where Yancy is holding them, as if he’s trying to find something, anything, to hold on to. He clenches his teeth over a desperate sound, eyes fluttering shut before flinging themselves open again, looking up at his brother, a wordless plea for permission there. Yancy  leans down, the angle slightly awkward, and places a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on the kid’s forehead.

“Not yet, love,” he whispers into the tan skin, earning him a distressed groan. Above them, Chuck moans, the sound reverberating around the glass and tile walls.

“Fuck, Ray, your ass is so good, so fuckin’ perfec— _oh holy fu—shit_.”

Chuck’s entire body tenses like a bow, and he pounds into Raleigh once, twice more before stilling, his entire body twitching as he unloads inside of Yancy’s brother. The younger blond makes a happy, babbling sigh as Chuck unloads inside of him, and Yancy, still bent over, whispers softly, “Such a good toy for us, lil’ bro. Go on. Come for us.”

Raleigh comes the second the words are out of Yancy’s mouth, completely untouched, sigh transforming into an almost-anguished groan as his cock twitches and spits out rope after rope of his release, the milky fluid covering his torso. When it’s over, Yancy pulls Raleigh more fully into his lap, stroking  his stomach softly, running his fingers through the cooling mess and presenting the digits one at a time to his boneless brother. Raleigh simply hums happily and suckles him clean each time, tilting his head so that he’s pushing his forehead into the crook of Yancy’s elbow. Chuck, meanwhile, has pulled shakily out of Raleigh, and has taken to following Yancy’s fingers with his tongue, lapping up the mess Raleigh left behind with gentle kitten licks that get small gasps out of the younger Becket, before he finally reaches Raleigh’s mouth and slowly, lazily, kisses him.

“You were so good, Rals,” Yancy whispers, running his fingers gently though the blond’s abused hair, massaging the scalp as Chuck hums his agreement. “So good for us, baby boy.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, Chuck and Yancy gently stroking, kissing, _loving_ any part of Raleigh they can reach, whispering words of praise and love, bringing him slowly back down to earth. They know they’ve succeeded when Raleigh starts wriggling between them.

“So, uh, we should probably shower before the water runs cold,” the younger blond says into the relative quiet.

Yancy laughs at that, and the three of them struggle to their feet before moving back to stand under the spray together. Chuck and Yancy refuse to allow Raleigh to clean himself, insisting that they want to take care of him, and, eventually, Raleigh relents. It’s when Yancy’s working shampoo into his brother’s scalp that Raleigh lets out a gasp, as if he’s just remembered something.

“Oh shit, what about—”

The door to the bathroom opens once more—of _course_ it does, Yancy thinks, because their entire lives _must_ be some kind of badly-scripted porno—and Herc enters, one of the long-sleeved shirts he insists on wearing while working out plastered to his body with sweat. He takes one look at the three of them showering together—Yancy sees his eyes track momentarily down to the small bottle of lube still on the bench—before he growls lowly, words carrying over the sound of the running water.

“Get cleaned up. All of you. Bedroom. Ten minutes. Don’t bother getting dressed.”

The tone leaves no room for argument—not that any of them _would_ —and, message delivered, he turns and strides from the room, shutting the door behind him.

The noises that come from Chuck and Raleigh’s throats don’t even sound human. Yancy’s not entirely sure that he doesn’t make a similar one, himself. Because, really, when the older Hansen pulls out _that_ voice…?

Yancy’s hole is already twitching in anticipation.


End file.
